Keep Them Guessing
by Sig Uchiha
Summary: When a boy suspected to be Robin winds up dead in an Gotham Alley Jim Gordon not only had to be on the job, he had to clean up the mess it caused. Meanwhile, Dick Grayson is forced to put down his mask and search for the person that keeps killing victims.
1. Chapter 1

Keep Them Guessing

Part 1: In Equal Measures

_I'm getting far too old for this shit. _Thought the tired and annoyed Commissioner of Gotham City's Police Department. His messy brown hair–that was beginning to turn _much_ too gray–had a hand pushed roughly though it as Jim attempted to think of a way out of the situation he had found himself in.

The day had started off rather normally for Jim. In other words? Rather terribly. He was still shacked up in the one room apartment that he had needed to rent after he had split up with his wife, Barbara. It was small, smelly, and he missed waking up next to the woman he had loved for years. But he had made mistakes, and he would have to live with them.

_More like live alone with them..._Jim thought bitterly as he trekked the dark alleys of the city that he loved and hated in equal measure. Gotham is to Gordon, what an abusive husband is to an abused wife: an object of love and affection. Even though most of the time he wanted to slip a knife under its throat in the middle of the night.

Truthfully, Jim has always been completely lost on just why he fights so hard for Gotham. He says that it's because he wants to restore it to former glory, but he has a hard time believing it had any. He says that it's for justice, but how just is he? A man that cheated on his beautiful wife for a woman that he couldn't even stand?

At the time it had seemed so simple, her name was Janice Porter. She was the woman that replaced Harvey Dent as Gotham's District Attorney, she replaced a man that at one time; had been Jim's best friend. He's never really forgiven her for that.

But even back then, when he had been so hell-bent on disliking the woman, he could tell that she knew her stuff. A Harvard Law, top of her class. She even came with experience under her belt, six years as Boston's District Attorney. She was the whole package. Porter knew her books, and her protocol.

But Porter didn't know Gotham.

Porter never understood the inherent criminal element that thrived in Gotham city. She had never understood how easy it was to go mad in this hell on Earth, even though her predecessor had been transformed into one of the most deranged men to ever live. Porter never understood why the criminal families couldn't be taken down one at a time, because doing so would turn Gotham into a war zone.

If you remove a king from power, all the soldiers attempt to draw the sword from the stone.

Porter was too innocent, too young to understand Gotham. Porter didn't understand why Batman was a necessary evil in this war on crime. She spoke of how he was dangerous, and how he undermined Jim's authority, she didn't seem to understand that he never had any. Porter didn't see Gotham at it's very worst, which was just how Jim first met this ugly city.

Though Jim hasn't accomplished much, he can at least say that he's cleaned up his department. Porter never needed to worry about being assaulted by the very people she had to trust her life with. Jim did, he had almost been beaten to a bloody pulp in his fist week!

Porter constantly berated Batman and did her best to shut the man down; fighting for the so called 'rights' of the criminal's that the man had brought down. She spoke the same way the judges in the judicial system did, with complete ignorance. It is easy to claim what Batman did as a miscarriage of justice, when you're tucked safely away from the horror that dwells in the streets Jim now walks. The same streets he's pledged his life too. The same streets he loves and hates.

But still, even though her ideals and attitude infuriated him, he felt so drawn to her. At first he just thought it was because of their jobs. It was only natural that he, as the Commissioner and she, as the District Attorney, were expected to work together. There were many long nights on the job shared between the two of them; of course they would get to know each other. But that was a lie.

Later still, he told himself that it was a ruse. That he was getting close to the woman in order to influence her, turn her over to the right side. There was nothing wrong with Janice, just wasn't used to the way things were run in his city. So many nights they worked side-by-side that he didn't even notice when he had started calling her 'Janice' instead of 'Porter'.

But his wife did, she noticed. The woman he had given his heart to noticed his attraction to Janice before Jim had even admitted it to himself. Barbara had attempted to save him, to give him a way out. She brought up their son, Jimmy more often; she told him of their daughter's increasing isolation. She tried so hard to speak to him, to get him to open up to her.

But he was too busy working long nights with Janice to worry about his little boy, and their daughter was just getting to 'that age'. She was smart; she wouldn't do drugs or join a gang. Of that he was sure; he did raise her after all. He would know if his little girl spent her nights fighting with some hooligans.

Barbara accused him of not raising their son.

Jim cheated on her with a woman he barely tolerates.

As Jim Gordon hurried down the another alleyway before turning a corner at Tom's Tonic and Spirit's and eventually passing a movie theater, he asked himself once more why he continued to fight for a city that had cost him so much? Was it for the golden days? For the Justice that he can't even hold himself to? For the innocents that he doesn't have to time to appreciate anymore?

For Batman? A man he calls a friend, even when he pretends that he doesn't know who he is under that mask. Oh, Jim isn't sure exactly who is under that cowl, but he has a damn good idea that it starts with a 'W' and ends in 'money'. His isn't an idiot in any way shape or form outside of his romantic entanglements.

However, as Jim suddenly found himself swimming within a throng of citizens, police officers, and reporters he resolves to keep the Bat out of his mind. A crime scene isn't the time or place to dwell on your personal life, and Jim has an example to set. But as Jim's gets a look at the poor bastard that's been iced by some idiot thug...

Batman comes to the forefront of his mind.

-ooO0Ooo-

"Alright, alright!" Jim hollered to everyone surrounding him, making sure that his men, the civilians and the reporters heard him. "This isn't a goddamn zoo people! Get the hell back to your jobs! It's only five in the afternoon for chrissakes! Allen!" An older African-American officer with dark, closely cropped hair looked up. "Get these hooligans outta here!" A sharp nod followed the order and Allen was doing his best to wave people out of the area, even though he and Jim knew it wouldn't work anytime soon.

"Uhhh, Boss?" Montoya interjected quietly. "It's six, not five." Jim figured that he must have given her one hell of a '_do I look like I care?_' look, because she quieted down. That in itself was a miracle; Renee Montoya had a motor mouth that could power a Ford Truck. Not that it wasn't amusing at times, but still...

Jim opened his mouth to fire off his orders, but was jostled by some idiot reporter; the man was firing off his camera so fast that it looked like one continuous bright light. It didn't help that every man, woman, and child with a phone or camera was doing the exact same thing. None of this improved the Commissioner's already horrible mood.

"THAT'S IT!" He shouted, terrifying the hell out of some woman's kid (just who the hell brings their son to a crime scene?) and shutting up everyone else. The dome of noise that covered Gordon shut up for several moments and he couldn't be more thankful, his headache was worse enough without help. "YOU ARE ALL INTERFERING WITH A CRIMINAL INVESTIGATION! GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE AND I BETTER NOT SEE ANY OF THIS IN TOMMOROW'S PAPER!"

This declaration was followed by a number of groans from the civilians, curses from the reporters, and winces from Gordon's own team. One photographer in particular seemed to feel the need to speak his mind and make Jim's day just that much more annoying. "The people have a right to knowledge!" He shot back, and Jim had to fight the urge to backhand him. "We deserve the right to free pr–"

"Jackson!" Jim cut in loudly, "Arrest that moron!" Of course, Jackson wouldn't be able to do anything but hold him in custody for a couple of hours, but it did the trick. Reporters always tend to run when the cuffs are brought out, and this time was no different.

It took all off two minutes for the area to be clear of unwanteds after Jackson followed through, and soon Gordon was tempted to call them all back. The crowd's rioting, noise, and general lack of direction had been able to take his mind off of what was on the ground near his feet. It was a boy that Jim recognized, if only in the most bizarre way possible.

The tunic was red, of course. That never changed. Neither did the sharp 'R' that was encircled and printed on the right side of the chest. The pants were black, just like the hair. His gloves and boots were black too, even if they had started out green. His sleeves were still short and his mask was still black and white and stuck to his young face.

But his face was _wrong_.

There was nothing wrong with it in general, it just wasn't right. It was far too rounded, and the jaw wasn't as defined. His mouth seemed too big and his brow wasn't furrowed in thought, and he wasn't frowning or grinning, the only two emotions he had even seen on the kid.

In fact, his mouth was open. It was shaped in that particular screaming fashion, when someone is scared out of their mind and all they can do is yell in terror. If Jim ripped of that mask, he'd bet that the eyes would've been wide and blank. The same way every dead, scared person looked when Jim found them on the ground.

But that wasn't right either. The kid didn't get scared. Or at least if he did, he hid it pretty damn well. The Boy Wonder wouldn't be caught dead with that type of expression on his face, he'd never let fear control him to that extent. There was just no way. This wasn't him, of that Jim was certain.

The broken body on the ground blow him, with a dark, red circle in his forehead was not him; was not Robin, the Boy Wonder. It just wasn't, Jim had seen the kid far too much to be mistaken.

Others however, had not.

"Holy shit." Parkers breathed, _he must have just gotten here, _Jim mused to himself. "_Holy shit._" It seemed that the whole situation was spooking the man pretty badly, not that many of the others on the force looked any better.

But, they have jobs to do. "Alright. Everyone." All heads swiveled away from the body to look at Gordon, and many faces looked like they were just waiting for a chance to get the hell out of here. Not that Jim blamed them, "Montoya, report now. Parkers, shut up. Don't rookie out on us."

"Y-yes sir. Umm, well...we have what looks to be Gotham's first and most famous sidekick: Robin. Uhh, he's uh, he's the sidekick of the Batman, who is a known vigilante that the force has been 'officially' after for more than a few years. He fight's so called 'villains', which are criminals with some type of genetic or chemical superpower or have some dangerous type of weapon."

"Yes, yes Montoya. I'm sure we all know this." Gordon cut in; hoping to cut the girl off before she really started to get in her flow, the girl could talk for months. "But I was talking about this scene in particular, not a running history of the victim."

Montoya colored red in embarrassment; she seemed to get what Jim had implied. "Uh, yes sir." She began. "What we have found sir, is that R-Robin was shot." Montoya pointed at the horrible bullet hole that sat in the middle of the boy's forehead. "There doesn't seem to be an exit wound however sir, so it may have been at a distance."

Allen chose this moment to interject himself into the briefing; he'd probably gotten tired of Montoya stumble and ramble over herself. Gordon couldn't blame him; sometimes listening to rookies was painful. "Sir, as procedure dictates, he haven't yet moved his body, so there may be an exit would even if it is unlikely. We don't know for sure if the shot has been fired from a distance, the wound leaves that suspect."

Gordon nodded, seeing what his colleague getting to. Landing a shot on someone's forehead from a distance was a very difficult thing to do, especially if said person was moving. "I'm guessing that you believe that it was a weaker caliber of firearm."

Allen nodded. "Yes sir. It could be that, the bullet wound seems to be on the smaller side, but I'm not an expert on these things. The lack of an exit wound means that the bullet's still stuck in the kid's head. That could be because the handgun that fired the round was damaged, or just not taken proper care of."

"Also sir, as you can see, his body is pretty mangled" It was easy to see that the boy had several broken bones in his arms and legs. "It seems that he fell of a nearby building after he was shot, the back his head bashed against the ground on impact. That is why it's so hard to tell if there is an exit wound."

Gordon nodded. "I understand. Get this kid chalked and sent to the lab. Do not let anyone unmasked him at this point in time, make sure that is done in a secure location." Allen nodded, and Gordon knew he could count on him. "This boy may or may not have a family; we have to protect them and their wishes in this matter. Too many cameras caught this already, if a criminal finds out about the family of a suspected Robin he or she might go to extreme lengths to get to them."

The Commissioner of Gotham City's Police Department paused in his giving of orders and took a deep breath; He then looked each and every one of his subordinates in the eye before he spoke again. "I swear on your mother's grave..." He began gravely "If someone unmasks this boy and leaks his identity to the press for any reason what so ever, not only will I have your badge, you'll be charged with multiple felonies. Am I clear?"

Several nods and nervous "yes sirs" were given and Gordon nodded in grim satisfaction. "Crike, you'll be leading the body to the lab, can I count on you?"

"Always, sir. Montoya!" Allen nodded. "You're riding with me rookie, hand in your squad keys to Squall." The girl shot him a grateful look that was probably a mesh of gratitude for including her and saving her from making an idiot out of herself earlier.

"Alright people!" Gordon ordered. "Head back to your cars and stations! You don't get a free show either! If you're needed, you'll be called!" There were a few grumbles and moans but like the others, many moved back to their squad cars without a fight. Though several officers shot him dirty looks.

Gordon swiftly turned on his heel and began to walk away from the scene wishing that he had brought his own car instead of doing the 'healthy' thing, and walking from the station. "I'm working on some important leads myself; call me if anything comes up!" He called over his shoulder.

And with that, Commissioner Gordon of the Gotham City Police Department exited Crime Alley.

-ooO0Ooo-

John Parkers is exactly what his name told you, an average guy. He had only become a Police Officer in Gotham because he didn't do too well in high school and could never afford to leave Gotham. When he had first started the job he had hated every minute of it, John wasn't some type of hero. He wasn't super brave or so stupid that he didn't know what went down between Gotham Cops and Gotham Mobsters.

Still, he needed a paycheck and wasn't willing to pump gas or work at a McDonald's.

But, while Parkers wasn't a model cop he did his job well enough. He was still new, so he was allowed to screw up every now and then. He had seen some messed up stuff in his short time on the force, but he was not expecting to find a superhero dead on the sidewalk.

So yeah, Parkers may have freaked out a little when he first got to the scene. He may have cussed a few times in front of his boss, but that was forgiven. The rookie card had saved him a lot of embarrassment once again, even if he was called out on it.

As for the case itself, Parker just wanted to get the hell out of town. So when Robert Squall, a forty-something balding cop waved him over and offered him a seat in his squad car, there was no way Parker would have said no. It sure as hell beat running up to the scene! Now though, he was regretting it.

_Squall must really have some problem with Gordon _Parkers thought to himself as the older officer once again started on their boss for the third time. _He sounds pretty jealous actually..._The rookie cop turned to listen to his superior, Squall, rant about their boss.

"I mean, what the hell, right kid? I mean, why the hell is Gordon Commissioner anyway? He isn't even from Gotham!" The man seemed outraged that anyway who wasn't from Gotham had a say in running the city, and Parker could somewhat understand how he felt.

"Yeah, man. I get what you're saying." Parkers nodded along. "More pay, less work. Gordon isn't out dodging bullets like the rest of us mortals now, huh?" Which was true in a way...

"Yeah, tell me about it rookie! But..." And ugly smile sprouted from Squall, as he lifted one hand from the wheel to scratch at what was left of his hair. "He's about to try and dodge a big-ass bullet right now. Lemme tell ya."

Parkers couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at that. "What do you mean? The 'Robin' thing?" It felt a little weird speaking about it, but it wasn't like everyone won't know by tomorrow anyway. "What does that have to do with Gordon?"

Squall snorted and Parker couldn't help but feel like punching him in the face. "Please, don't tell me kids these days are really that stupid." The older cop had a look similar to that of a child who is having a hard time holding in a secret.

"I'm not a kid! I'm twenty-thr–"

"Anyway _kid_, Gordon's going to have a really annoying next couple of days. It's really gonna piss him off when he's kicked from the case." Parker began to ask the obvious question as Squall carried on. "He's too close to the Bat. There isn't a chance in hell that he'd be able to stay heading this thing. Everyone knows how buddy-buddy he is with Batman."

"You don't seriously think that Batman's in on this do you?" Parkers ask incredulously. "Seriously? He's Batman!"

"Oh don't be so stupid for a second rookie, and use that goddamn head of yours. If a cop winds up dead in an alley, who is the first person you investigate? His partner!" Squall looked really pleased with himself for bringing that up, Parkers was surprised that he made so much sense. "No matter what, no matter who he is, Batman is the prime suspect. Just like any other case, costume wearing freaks aside."

"But isn't the fact that Gordon works with Batman kept of off the records? They don't have a reason to push him off the case."

"Yeah, it's kept off the books, but do you think everyone's blind? There is a big-ass spotlight on top of the goddamn department roof!" Squall called out, obviously disgusted by the mere thought of the Bat-signal. "Of course the DA won't just up and say 'You can't work with us, cuz Bats and you are tight'. Nah, they'll give Gordon some bullshit reason, and he'll listen if he wants to keep his job."

The next part of Squall's speech was spoken grudgingly, as if every word made him sick. "But I have to admit, Gordon isn't stupid. Allen was the best person he could've picked to send the body to the morgue. Allen is far from stupid; taking that rookie with wasn't a bad idea either."

"Montoya?" Parkers questioned, trying his best to keep up. "Why? I'm not even sure that Gordon likes her."

"That doesn't matter. What matters is that she's a rookie, and rookies slow things down. Allen is at the place to be right now," Squall reiterated. "Depending on what Gordon wants him to do, he can speed up the investigation or slow it down. He can try to finish this whole case before it hits the news, or he can have Allen gridlock it to buy some time."

"To get to Batman, oh...I get it. Duh. If Allen takes his time, he can blame it on Montoya and the Morgue. He could say she was tripping him up, and that the morgue didn't hurry on the autopsy." Now Parkers was starting to get what Squall was telling him, but one thing didn't add up to the rookie cop. "But why is Allen risking this at all? I mean, if he gets blamed he can get canned, forget just moved from the investigation."

Squall shrugged, and for a horrifying moment, Parkers thought he was going to lose control of the wheel. When he spoke again it was with that same I-know-something-you-don't look. "It happened before you got here, years ago. When Gordon first came here he got roughed up real bad by this guy, Flass. He was the Lieutenant Detective back in the day, and I guess Gordon mouthed off to him or something."

"Anyways, a couple days after that Gordon caught one of Flass' boys trying to rough up Allen in front of his kids and stepped in. Bing, bang, boom, Gordon helped Allen and Allen's been sucking up to him ever since."

"...You really hate Gordon don't you?"

"He doesn't have any right to be telling me, or anyone else how we do things in Gotham."

"I just think you're mad that after you park this in a station, you're gonna have to walk back to get Montoya's from the scene."

"...Shut the hell up rookie."

-ooO0Ooo-

The silence in Crispus Allen's police issued squad car was a heavy one, even though it wasn't truly awkward. Both Allen and Montoya had plenty to think of, Montoya was attempting to process what they had found earlier and Allen was focused on following the ambulance in front of them. It was moving 'Robin' to the morgue.

Montoya broke the silence slowly. "I...just can't believe...I mean, holy hell, huh?"

Allen frowned. "Holy hell indeed. Get ready kid, the next few days are going to be a complete and utter mess. Just to give you fair warning." The dark skinned man frowned even more. "And I mean that in the worst way possible."

"You think so?"

"Yep. The boss is going to be pulled and he's going be replaced with the biggest asshole in the city. Its how these things go." Allen let loose a rumbling sigh, "The media's gonna go nuts. The courts too."

Montoya frond and brushed her brown hair behind an ear. "Because of Robin right? What do you think everyone's going to do about Batman?" She asked, interested in Allen's answer.

"We can't worry about Batman right now." Allen countered gruffly. "We need to focus on 'Robin', or whoever this is."

"You don't think it's him."

Allen shrugged carelessly. "I'm not sure myself, I've only seen him once or twice in passing, but the boss sure doesn't think it's him, you could see it in his eyes." At his subordinates questioning glance, Crike continued. "He was shocked when he saw the body, but wasn't horrified. He would've taken it a lot worse than what he did if he really thought that was Robin on the ground."

"Then what's the problem?" She questioned. "I'm not getting what you're trying to say."

"The problem is: no one knows who Robin really is or how he looks. The boss could probably tell everyone, but no one would believe him. They know how close he works with Batman, and he'll be deemed a liability as a result. The biggest problem is that the minute he gets pushed aside, someone's gonna try to take his job."

Understanding was beginning to show in the girl's brown eyes. "So there might be a new Commissioner, and there's a good chance he'll be a Bat-hater. Which makes our jobs harder. Hell, we might even be ordered to bring Batman in."

_Oh, they'll order us to alright._ Allen thought, _But none of us will be able to take him down, and people are only going to get hurt because of that_. The older cop sighed, the aftermath of this case was going to cause a bloodbath, Allen was sure of it.

Still, Montoya was still thinking too big. The girl needed to bring her ideas down on the domestic level. Whoever is related to 'Robin' was going to have a terrible next few weeks. No one could tell if this kid is Robin, so the dead boy's family is going to be immediately accused of withholding information on Batman.

Not to mention the poor kid's father, he's probably going to be arrested and brought to a cell. Most people already think that Batman is Robin's father, so whatever man raised the kid is going to get hell from all sides: cops, criminals, and civilians.

Allen spoken once again. "I really hope this kid's parents don't know about him wearing a cape. If they do, both of them are going to be made an example of, and each of them–Batman included–will end up in prison under a mountain of child endangerment charges."

"I know..." Montoya whispered, the girl looked rather heartbroken at the thought of her hero ending up in prison. "Just think how bad Gotham would be without Batman."

Her superior just shrugged once more. "We've gotten on without Batman way before he came here. And we'll carry on way after he's gone.

-ooO0Ooo-

_Okay Jimbo,_ Gordon thought to himself hurriedly. _It's safe to assume that you're going to be chucked off this case as soon as possible. So your gonna have to bend some of the rules to make it a bit harder for them._

With this in mind, Gordon grabbed his cellphone from his inner pocket and deliberately dropped on the sidewalk and began stomping it into mechanical mush. When that was finished, he picked up as many bits and pieces as he could find and threw them into a nearby garbage bin. He just officially 'lost' his cellphone. It'd be harder to get in touch with him now, which is just what Gordon wants. As long as he isn't officially booted from the Robin case, then he can still run it as he normally would.

_Even if the city does push the case off on someone else, as long as I'm not told no one can blame me for taking charge of the investigation and giving orders. _Gordon thought with grim resolve. _I just can't take any big, obvious risks._

Now one cellphone lighter, Gordon stalked down Gotham's many alleyways with a long powerful stride; he couldn't afford to be idle. Too many things were going to happen in the next few days, and Gordon was going to be out of the game soon anyway, so he'd have to make his last few big plays count for something.

Gordon knew that Bats and the kid could take care of themselves; he probably knew that better than anyone in Gotham. But their jobs would become a whole lot harder if they go back to being hunted vigilantes instead of police costumed support. If Batman or Robin got into any confrontation with the police force –no matter what the reason–it would be blown out of proportion.

The newspapers would print biased reports and there would be mass public outrage, which would allow cops a lot more 'leeway' when it came to dealing with Batman. All that would really add up to would be that a lot more guns would be drawn on Batman, and most of them would be about a good chunk of the force.

Usually if an officer catches Batman right after he deals with a criminal, they'll just let him go and pretend that they never saw him. That wouldn't be the case anymore, the cop would see him and respond with deadly force before asking questions. The worst part is that they'd get away with it.

And now Gordon was off as fast as he could go without running, straight to the Gotham City Police Department Headquarters, the city's main police station. It was the one place that had the easiest (and only) reliable way to summon Batman.

The Bat-Signal.

That searchlight was the symbol of understanding not only between Batman and the Gotham City Police Department, but also between Bats and Gordon himself. Having such a tool was a test of trust and patience everyday; but Gordon never regretted it. It was a symbol to victims, criminals, and villains alike. Gordon would never regret using it to help so many people, it had done so much good in Gotham.

And Gordon was going to have to ruin it.

Bottom of Form


	2. Chapter 2

Keep Them Guessing

Part 2: Tipping and Tripping

Brown shoes harshly pounded the dirty, chipped sidewalks of Gotham City as Jim Gordon moved at a speed that was caught in between walking and a swift jog. It was awkward, hurried, and unnatural looking, but it was best he could do without running down alleys like a madman.

Jim had spent the past twenty minutes looking for a payphone, and was beginning to become incredibly annoyed. He had known that cell phones had become so mainstream and popular with their gadgets (some of those phones simply amazed and confused the man), but he didn't think it was _this_ bad. He couldn't find one payphone!

It was as though some sort of higher power was doing everything in the book to make this one of the worst days of Jim's entire life, _and it was working! _And with the life James Gordon had been settled with, that was a real accomplishment.

Jim needed a payphone, and he needed it now! The Commissioner need to get in contact with someone in a way that wouldn't be able to be tracked, so that meant landlines and cellphones were out. It also made all gas station and train station payphones unable to be used, since places like that were covered in cameras.

The one time Jim needed a damn payphone and he couldn't find one! Where the hell are they? Twenty years ago you couldn't walk two feet without running into the damn things. _I don't have time for this!_ Jim's teeth gritted as he thought to himself furiously. _I have too much to do and too little time to be messing around!_

He rounded a corner and had to swerve to avoid rushing into an elderly woman (who looked like she would have been ready to knife him if he had gotten too close to her purse) before he finally found one. Jim would have sung in relief if e had been that kind of man.

As he picked up the ugly (and sticky) yellow receiver, Jim shoved one of his hands into a pocket to collect whatever spare coins he had. Luckily, he had more than enough to make the call he needed, maybe the entire universe wasn't against him.

He quickly pushed the coins into the pay-slot and dialed so quickly that he almost pushed the incorrect buttons, but he managed to pull through and heard the phone ringing on the other end of the line.

For several long moments no one picked up, and Jim was close to cursing in anger when an annoyed gruff spoke out and the ringing stopped. "_Eh, what? Who is this?_" Harvey sounded the same way he always did, slightly drunk; and Jim was ironically grateful for that. "_Well, answer me!"_

"Harvey, thank God you picked up. I–"

"_Gordon?_" Harvey interrupted in surprise, and Jim could almost see the man sit up straighter in the swivel chair that sat behind the desk in his privet office. "_Gordon? Jesus Christ man, what the hell is going on down there?_"

Jim cast several searching glances down both ends of the street to make sure that no one was listening to him, before he whispered into the receiver. "You've heard what went down in Crime Alley? Great, that means I don't have to explain it to you." Jim licked his chapped lips and searched the area once again before continuing. "I need you to do a favor for me Harvey."

His old subordinate's voice became a little less tipsy and a little bitterer as he snorted into his phone. "_Don't you always? That's all you ever get in touch with me for nowadays. You only ever call on me when shit gets tough._"

"What?" Jim questioned, he was beginning to feel that this conversation might get a little more complicated the longer it went on for. "You know that isn't true, I have the department toss you more than enough jobs Harvey."

"_Toss me jobs!_" Harvey's voice took on a distinct tone of outrage as the phone line began to crackle. "_Toss me jobs! Well, Commissioner, you wouldn't have to 'toss me jobs' if I was still on the force!_"

"Oh, don't even go there Harvey..." Jim warned as he voice dropped even lower than it already was. "You know damn well why I had to let you go, you were out of control! Hell, you still are..." Jim's jaw set as he switched from just another officer to the Commissioner of the Gotham City Police Department in a flash. "I do not permit police brutality, you knew that Harvey! I never permitted it!"

"_You know damn well why I did what I did!_" Harvey's voice began to rise higher and Jim heard what sounded like a glass bottle breaking. Harvey most likely threw it at his wall. "_Don't try to judge me, I had every right!_"

"You were a role model goddammit!" Jim growled into the phone, he felt like reaching through the line and punching the other man in the face. "You had no right! Do you have any idea what could have happened if everyone found out what you did? Forget just taking your badge, I could've had you arrested!"

"_Don't give me that high and mighty crap, Jim. We both know the reason you didn't arrest me was to protect your own reputation._" Gordon could practically hear the man's scowl. "_It wouldn't look very good for the Commissioner and his department if one of his most influential officers came out looking less then picture perfect, would it?_"

Jim couldn't stop the scoff that came. "Less than perfect? It was a lot more then that Harvey, and you know it. Don't think I don't know about you bribing Falcone!" The Commissioner ran a hand through his graying hair. "And don't fore–"

A loud and almost painful to hear beep filled Jim's ear and he cursed softly when a woman's recorded voice spoke. He didn't even both listening as the recording droned on, he knew she just told him that he only had several second to cough up some more coins before the call was ended.

He reached into his pockets once more and pulled out several more quarters that he used to pay the toll, and didn't speak after that. An awkward silence filled up the between him and Harvey, both of them had lost any real fire after they had been interrupted, and both knew that shouting wouldn't solve anything.

Jim sighed tiredly before he began to speak. "Listen, Harvey...I..." He paused again for another sigh, and tried to gather his thoughts. "Look, I need your help here. I need you to do something for me or we might just lose Bats to a bunch of idiots waiting to spring some stupid trap on him using the signal. I called you because I know that you're a good man and partner, and I need that kind of person right now. Can I count on your help?"

The line was quiet for several long moments, and Jim had just begun to wonder if Harvey had hung up or passed out when his gruff voice spoke out."_...Go on._"

Jim glanced down the street one last time to make sure that they're conversation wasn't being monitored in away way, once he was sure that no one was listening he spoke."I need you to make a call for me..."

-ooO0Ooo-

Allen and Montoya stood together in the Morgue of Gotham's Julian Thomas Hospital. Both were put off by the plain, white, sterility of the room; but Allen had gotten used to the feeling over time. This was one of Montoya's first times in this part of the hospital, and the girl kept sending furtive glances over at the body lockers.

Allen rolled his eyes and placed a calloused hand on the girl's shoulder. "Cool it rookie, your freaking yourself out. I promise that there aren't any zombies in here or anything."

The girl's head snapped to him so quickly Allen briefly wondered if it was going to spin off. Disappointingly, it did not. "W-what?" The girl almost shrieked. "I don't think–where did you get such a ridiculous thing from?"

Allen sighed and palmed his face with his hand. "It was a joke rookie, it was a joke." An awkward silence filled out between them as Montoya blushed in embarrassment, and Allen decided to just to keep quiet and wait for the mortician.

It took several minutes, but the white double doors opened and a woman in a white coat pushed in a long table with wheels on it. Her hair was blonde and rolled up into a tight bun and her eyes were a dark green. A tag on her coat read Martha Walters.

She moved the slab into the middle of the room and waved the two officers over to where she stood. "Well now," Martha began as she looked the two police officers over before turning to face Allen fully. "I assume that you are Crispus Allen?" After receiving a nod, the woman continued. "Well then Mister Allen; let's see what's under sheet number one."

In an action that looked very practiced, Martha carefully lifted and folded the top half of the sheet covering the slab, revealing the masked face of the supposed Boy Wonder. But it seemed that the boy's mask was the only thing left on him, as his chest was bare. His skin was pasty, and Allen didn't have to touch it to know that it was ice cold.

"What can you tell us, Miss Walters?"

The blonde woman frowned, and Allen had a feeling that this whole situation was going to be a problem. "Nothing that you couldn't have figured out on your own. It's seems to be a clear cut case...or, at least as clear cut as a case like this can be."

"It seems to be just like what you would expect; a boy dressed up as Robin was shot in the forehead and fell of the building he was running along. The bullet lodged itself into his frontal lobe as his body fell through the sky and he landed on the sidewalk back-first. His head bashed up against the sidewalk and it cracked like an egg. Clean cut..."

Allen frowned at the mortician's tone. "I'm sensing a 'but' here Miss Walters. What else is there? Do you know what kind of weapon was used?"

Martha sighed, but nodded. "We are reasonably certain that the weapon used was a .22 caliber pistol. The bullet was extracted, but we cannot get any specific identification on it, its make and number were scratched out."

Allen nodded, but didn't speak. The man could tell that there was more to be said, so he rested his hand on Montoya's shoulder to stifle any questions she might have at the moment. He kept his gaze on Martha, who in turn looked down at 'Robin'.

"There was a small laceration on his back, it looked similar to a scratch or slice from a small knife." Martha paused in her report, and turned her gaze back to Allen. The man could see a certain type of sorrow in her eyes. "I know I'm just supposed to state known facts but..."

Allen understood what the woman was trying to say. "Can you tell us what you think may have happened to him Miss Walters? Your opinion could really help the investigation."

"It...it looked like there was probably two or more perpetrators in this case. The scratch on his back may have came from someone attacking him as he ran away, but the bullet came from in front of him. The type of gun used was also a small pistol; that means the owner of the weapon would have had to be fairly close to the boy if he wanted to get a forehead shot. Especially since the boy was moving."

"I understand. He ran from one attacker only to run right into another." Allen pulled out a small notepad and pencil from his pocket before handing then to his young partner. "Montoya, get that down will you? There will be official reports of course, but this kind of informal is important. I want to keep some of it on hand for personal use. Just in case."

As Montoya scribbled down the facts, Allen continued to question Martha. "What about his costume, Miss Walters? Can you tell me anything about it?"

"Well, right off the bat I can tell you that it wasn't cheap. It isn't one of those silly Walmart get-ups that kids buy for Halloween." The woman reached for a small rack that was attacked to the body slab and pulled out a clipboard. Allen could see several reports and other details covering the pages. "The belt was made out of a sturdy plastic, and had fully accessible compartments. Several of them held sharp pieces of metal shaped like a bat. One held a knife while several others help different types of painkillers."

"That's it? Doesn't that seem kind of...incomplete?" Allen asked as he thought back on what he knew about Robin. "Isn't he supposed to have a grappling hook too? And a whole bunch of other high-tech weapons?" It was common knowledge that Batman and Robin ran with the type of equipment that the army would kill for, so why was the kid just carrying normal everyday items?

"That seems to be the general idea going around; this kid's stuff is just way too simple. He also isn't in that great shape. Don't get me wrong, the kid isn't really overweight, he just isn't some all-star athlete." Martha shrugged her shoulders a little. "There isn't a lot of fat on him, but there isn't a lot of muscle either."

"So the signs are pointing towards this kid not being Robin?"

"They do if you believe that there is only one Robin. It's never actually been proven that there isn't a whole flock of them running around with Batman." Martha took in Montoya's gasp as she continued. "I mean, we've already seen two very different costumes. The original was primarily green and red while the one we see nowadays is black and red. That can point to two different kids."

Allen wasn't sure if Montoya was happy or shocked that there might be more than one Robin running around Gotham. "But there has only ever been one Robin that is seen with Batman." The girl stated as she stopped writing in the notepad. "That has to say something."

She really was a Batman and Robin fan, and Allen wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing at this point in time. He just hoped that it's a habit she'll grow out of.

"It does say something, but no one is sure what that something is. There may be one Robin, or two. They might both work for Batman, or they might not. Batman may have kept one, but not the other. Heck, for all we know this kid was acting on his own in an attempt to gain Batman's attention." The mortician rubbed her left temple in thought. "Actually, there is a very good chance that this kid isn't connected to Batman at all, he could just be a fan that took it too far."

"But that's good, right?" Montoya asked as she began to write once more. "If we prove that this kid was just a normal kid then everything will be fine. How can this be Batman's fault if he doesn't even know who this kid is?"

"Parents, shrinks, and people in Social Justice will disagree with you." Allen began. "They'll say that Batman is a negative influence on the youth of Gotham City. Have you ever read 'The Caped Crusader Theorem' by B. T. Walsh?" Seeing the confused look on his partner's face, Allen explained. "It started out as some sort of Social Thesis about Batman and the effect his appearance had on Gotham City's criminal element."

"The book came out a couple of years ago, and was a major success." This time it was Martha would explained the book and its purpose. "It spoke about how Batman's methods forced criminals to become more and more creative in breaking the law. And in the a incredibly short amount of time 'Super Villains' were born in Gotham. Basically, the entire book blamed all of Gotham's problems on Batman. They even blame the creation of the Joker on Batman."

"What? You can't be serious?" Montoya thrust her hands angrily into the air, and gripped the notebook in her hand painfully tight. "They can't think like that, Batman has done so much for Gotham. If he wasn't around all of those super powered nut-jobs would be even worse than they are now."

Allen just shrugged his shoulders. While he didn't blame Batman for anything, he was willing to admit that the man wasn't perfect by any stretch of the word. "I guess, but you have to admit that the timing is really close. Twenty years ago you didn't have to worry about super villains, just mobsters. But the minute we get a superhero, we also get a bunch of crazy freaks. Don't even get me started on the Joker..."

Martha tapped her clipboard to draw the officers' attention. "I think we're getting off track over here. As I was saying before, the boy's costume looks well made. But it doesn't have as much padding as I would have imagined though; of course, if this kid really is Robin then he might not need any. We were able to gather some fiber stitching from his clothes and process the suit in search of any fingerprints. We were able to find some, but they didn't match the kid's."

"Can you find out who they belong to?"

A small, proud smile graced the mortician's face as she took one page from her clipboard and handed it over. One it was a mug shot of a male who looked to be in his late thirty's, with light brown hair and brown eyes. Aside from a slightly longer than average neck, the man looked perfectly normal.

"That page filled with the relevant information of Joesph Carter, a thirty-nine year old man that was born in New York City and moved over here in Gotham during his teen years. His prints were on file because of his tendency to drink and drive. He owns a small used clothes store that is known for repairing articles of clothing for a price."

Well, Allen supposed that if a person could repair clothes, then making them wasn't too far off, was it? The man took several more files, before giving his thanks. "Thank you, Miss Walters. You have been a great help, and we appreciate it." He held out a hand for her to shake. "If that is all...?"

Martha grasped his hand, but it was easy to see that she still had more to say. "Mister Allen, I must ask you to allow me to run a blood test so we can identify the victim. I know that you were given orders to keep his identity secret, but it is part of my job to find out who this boy is."

"I understand what you are trying to say Miss Walters. But this is a sensitive case, the police department is trying it's hardest to make sure that the name of whoever is under that mask isn't leaked." The dark skinned man gazed around the white room as he spoke, as though he was searching for some kind of listening device or camera. "You may not tell anyone ma'am, but this hospital is filled with a lot of doctors and nurses that might."

"I know, but preserving his identity tin order to keep whoever is related to this boy secret won't matter if something happens to his family." He could hear a pleading note enter her voice as she glanced back at the cold body. "You have to accept that whoever killed this boy might have gotten out information about his family. The culprit might even know his family personally, and besides...don't you think his parents deserve to know?"

"...The boy might be an orphan." Allen muttered, but even he could tell that his defense was worthless. Of course he felt that the boy's family had every right to know what happened to their son, but it was his call to make. He wasn't the Commissioner, and Jim had given him one main order; to make sure that the kid could stay masked for as long as possible. But still...

"I tried to call my boss earlier..." He admitted, "But I think his phone has been disconnected. I wanted to ask what he wants to be done with the boy...I even tried his home phone too, but he wasn't there."

Martha's dark green eyes drilled into his, and an unsatisfied expression was easy to read on her face. It was even easier to hear in her voice, "Well officer, someone has to do something about this body, and it has to be done _soon_. Why not you?"

"Me and Montoya have to go and apprehend Joesph Carter as soon as possible. He'll be wanted for questioning for the case to see if and what he knows about this kid's death."

"You're splitting hairs, officer." The mortician cast a shrewd glance over to both Allen and Montoya. "If this man did create the costume, then he has to have some record of it. Finding out when it was made may help the case, and if you want those records then you'll need a name to reference." She glanced back to Montoya and gave the girl a small smile before she continued. "And don't use meeting with Carter as an excuse not to be here, send someone else to do it. I'd imagine that you have the power to do so. As you said yourself, 'this is a sensitive case' so I'd imagine that the Commissioner wouldn't send some greenhorn to do the job."

Neither Allen nor Martha missed the bright blush that turned Montoya's face a a hot red, but neither of them commented on it. "You could just call in someone from a station, couldn't you? Then you'd be able to wait here for the boy's blood work to be finished. It won't take long, as this case is very important and you'll be pushed through as quickly as possible."

But Allen just shook his head regretfully, which caused Martha no small amount of anger. "Officer! Are you honestly telling me that you'll leave this child's parents to the wolves _and_ not try your absolute best to contact them with the information that they have every right to hear?" There was disgust in her voice, it was too easy to notice. "For what? Are you afraid of being demoted? Or losing your job? Is it really worth risking these people's lives over?"

"It isn't like that at all!" This whole thing wasn't about him keeping his job or position, Gordon had trusted him to do his job. And Allen owed Gordon a lot, it went beyond Jim saving him from getting beaten down in front of his kids. It went beyond the fact that Jim was his boss, the man was his friend, and Allen didn't want to let him down.

But hadn't Jim always talked about justice and how it was their job as police officers to enforce justice? It was even more important for the veteran cops to be role models and set examples for the rookies. What kind of example would he set for Montoya if he puts the lives of innocent people on the line just because he doesn't want to go against an order?

As Allen turned to look at his younger partner, he wondered what she felt he should do in this situation. She had been unusually quiet since they entered the hospital, and that said a lot since the girl had a habit of not knowing when to quiet down.

It was also true that the boy's identity would have to be found out sometime, and while keeping it secret from the press was ideal, everything will go a lot smoother if they knew who was killed. "...Fine." Allen muttered. "If you can promise me that this information won't be leaked, then run his blood work."

"It won't take much longer, within the hour."

"Why so fast?"

Martha tossed him a satisfied smirk as she turned to exit the room. "Let's just say I knew you'd see things my way, and decided to cut out the middle man."

-ooO0Ooo-

"I can't believe that you dragged me all the way down here...I do have a life ya'know."

"Oh, shut the hell up rookie."

John Parkers and Robert Squall were once again sitting side by side in a police cruiser; the only difference was that Parkers was the one driving. The rookie cop had had vehemently denied his superior any access the steering wheel after having to ride around with him earlier that afternoon.

After the duo had arrived at a station and dropped off the cruiser that Squall had been driving before, the older man had all but strong-armed Parkers into walking back to the Robin crime scene. It was a ways of a walk, and Squall hadn't felt like making the trek alone.

After making it to the scene and spending several minutes looking at the sidekick's chalk outline and exchanging theories, they had found Montoya's squad car and began driving back to a station. That was five minutes ago and Parkers had yet to stop complaining about being dragged from place to place.

"Don't tell me to shut up! You're the one complaining abo–!"

A shrill ringing that increased and decreased in volume to the rhythm of some unnamed classic rock song began to blare, silencing Parkers. Both police officers were stunned for a moment from its sheer volume, but eventually Squall reached into his pocket and withdrew a flip cell phone.

"Huh?" The older man asked after he opened the phone and answered the call. "Who is this and what do ya want? I'm working here!"

A low, baritone answered. "_Squall, this Is Allen. I need you to run a job for me. Right now._"

Squall furrowed his brow at the thought of more running around, but didn't shoot the request down right away. "What for? It better be good, I'm already running around as it is." The man paused before continuing. "And why couldn't you just radio me if you needed me to do something."

Parkers did his best to listen to the their conversation and Allen's reply as he kept his eyes on the road. "_I didn't use the radio because I don't want this all over the airwaves. I need you to head to a small thrift store on Rathburn Avenue...it has to do with the Robin case._"

Both Parkers and Allen sat straighter in their respective seats the moment 'Robin' was mentioned. This case was going to become a big deal, and having any part of it would make anyone's work file look good.

"Rookie, turn this boat around and head to Rathburn!" Squall ordered, even though Parkers had already began to turn their siren on and make an illegal u-turn in the other direction. "What do I need to do?"

"_I need you to bring a potential suspect in for questioning. The man's name is Joesph Carter and it looks likely that he either made or repaired the Robin suit the kid was wearing..._"

As Krike gave several details of the case to Squall, Parkers felt his blood beginning to pump as he wondered about what might be found out once they bring in this Joesph Carter. If this whole deal lead to a big break in the case, then it'll be easy-street for him here on out! Apprehending the murderer of a superhero would look fantastic on anyone's paperwork!

This break was just what Parker needed to land a nice, cushy desk job instead of running the streets all night. Maybe Gordon will promote him once this whole thing was over! Speaking of Gordon...

"Hey, Squall, ask Allen if he's heard anything from Gordon."

"Good idea rookie!" The older officer replied as he began to question the man on the other line about what he knew about Gordon. But he didn't get very much, as it seemed Allen hadn't be able to get in contact with the Commissioner.

This little tidbit of information caused Squall to began a small, but heated rant of how useless Gordon was as he hung up on Allen. "Uggh! Gordon is such a worthless twit! The job of the century is going down, and the idiot's nowhere to be found!"

"Maybe he's already gotten in touch with Batman." Parkers offered, as he sped past a pickup truck and shot through a red light. "That seems pretty likely to me."

"Maybe. Have you seen the signal go up?"

Parkers just shook his head; if he had seen the Bat-signal light up the sky he would have mentioned it. "I don't think he'd do that, doing something that obvious would probably cost him his job."

Squall just grunted in agreement, and changed the subject. "I think we should ignore this guy's store and just head straight to his place. I got the address from Krike."

Recognizing the order for what it was, Parkers nodded and asked for directions. Soon enough the duo were pulled up in front of an apartment building. It was made up of red bricks, and the stairs might have been a hassle if Carter hadn't been reported to live on the first floor.

They exited the squad car silently, both wanted to keep the element of surprise, and so the siren had been turned of several blocks away. They crept onto the sidewalk and moved quickly up to the stone steps that led into the interior of the building.

After the duo had opened the main door, the faint smell of cigarettes hit their senses, and both Squall and Parkers were careful to not trip or break and of the bottles of liquor on the floor. It seemed that there had been some sort of get together some time ago.

Soon they were face to face with the door belonging to apartment 105; it was painted a uniform green and made out of metal, which meant neither of them would be able to kick it down if push came to shove.

Squall then held his finger to his lips to signal silence, and pointed to the rear exit of the building. Silently telling his younger partner to leave the building and wait outside where the windows were, just in case the suspect tried to run. After nodding, Parkers departed and Squall was left alone to do his part.

Squall stepped out of direct sight from the door's peephole and then raised his hand and tried to knock on the door as politely as possible, which was a far cry from the booming and imposing knock that most cops were known to use. He then waited several moments before he began to knock one more time.

Suddenly there was a soft 'thump' that came from the other side of the door and a hurried curse that resounded from within the apartment. Squall began to hit the door louder and harder as he started to call out. "Mr. Carter! Mr. Carter this is the police! I need you to open your door!"

But he didn't get a reply and began to call out something else. "You can't hide in their forever! I'll sit right here outside your door all day if I have to!"

-ooO0Ooo-

Parkers crept outside the building as quickly as possible without making any unnecessary noise, he stepped silently down the stairs and began to hug the wall out the building. He sat there for several minutes watching the nearby windows while doing his best to remain out of sight.

Soon enough one of the windows began to squeakily slid open, and Parkers' heart started to beat faster than normal, hoping that Carter would not have the foresight to stick his head out to scan the area. But, it seemed luck was on Parkers side, instead of a head exiting the window, it was a foot.

Grinning to himself slightly, the twenty-three year old moved forward quickly, grabbed a hold of the foot, and pulled back as hard as he could.

"Aggrh! What the hell!" The owner of the foot called out as he was all but dragged out of the window, and made to fall painfully to the ground. The main laid there in a combination of shock and pain before someone wrenched his hands behind his back and clasped cold, metallic handcuff to his wrists.

"Hey! Hey Squall!" Parkers called out as he hefted the suspect to his feet. "Come out here! I have this asshole!" The man then tried to drag Carter back to the inside of the building, but the man began to fight him.

Doing his best to break away, Carter started to shake, kick, and fail about hoping he would dislodge his captor's grip. "LET ME GO YOU INGRATES!" The man screamed to high heaven. "LET ME GO!" But it seemed to be in vain, because Parkers had a tight grip on him and Squall made his appearance soon enough.

At some unseen signal, both officers took one of his arms and matched the man back through the building and to the police cruiser. Carter fought them every step of the way. After the man stomped on his fought twice, Squall spoke up.

"Kid! Grab the tazer and shut this asshole up!" The man growled as his grip on Carter tightened. "He's really beginning to piss me off!"

"No way! I'm not doing anything to him, this is the case of the century! And I'm not losing it if this guy claim's police brutality or something!" Parkers growled as he, as he moved out of the way of a flailing kick. "We'll just have to deal for right now! We're getting closer to the car!"

But those word's seemed to push their captive into overtime as his screaming got louder and his movements became more wild. "HELP! HELP ANYONE!" He howled to the world, drawing the heads of a few people walking along the neighborhood. "THESE MEN ARE TRYING TO KIDNAP ME! HELP!"

"Shut up you freak!" Squall thundered as they got to the car and Parkers was forced to restrain the frantic by himself as his partner opened the back seat. It took several minutes and tries, but they were able to force the man back into the back seat where they strapped him in.

Seconds later both were back in the front of the car with Parkers behind the wheel once more and Squall calling Allen once more. Both officers tried the best to drown out Carter's frantic and explosive screams. "AAAAHH! LET ME GOOOOO!"

"_H-hello?_" Allen's voice sounded surprised at the level of volume that came from their end of the line. "_Who is this and what the hell is that racket?_"

"Squall." The older man muttered gruffly. "At all that noise is the asshole that we had to pick up. Thanks a lot for that by the way." He ended the sentence with more than enough sarcasm.

"_What? What the hell did you two do for him?_" Allen still sounded dazed and out of the loop. "_What the hell happened? Did you break his legs?_"

"We didn't do anything! That's the goddamn problem." Squall hollered, he was trying to drown out Carters voice with his own, but it only seemed to make the situation worse. "We didn't want to tazer this idiot, so we had to drag his screaming ass all the way to the car!"

"AAAAAAHHHHH! LEEEEET MMMEEEEEE GOOOOOOO!"

"SHUT THE HELL UP!" Parkers' scream was even louder than their captive's. "SHUT THE HELL UP! OR I SWEAR I'LL DRIVE US ALL OFF A BRIDGE!" The younger cop had obvious lost it, and was at the end of his rope.

"Rookie! Shut up! You're making things worse!" Squall hollered, but he soon turned his attention back to his phone. "Allen! Where do you want us to bring this guy!"

"_The Department Headquarters!_" He screamed back, trying his best to be heard."_I'll meet you there! Don't question him without me!_" He then proceeded to hang up quickly, obviously he wanted to be as far away from the noise as possible. Neither Squall or Parkers could blame him.

"Well rookie!" Squall hollered. "Welcome to the big leagues!"

"Yippee..." Muttered the younger man as he sped his way to the Gotham City Police Department Headquarters.


End file.
